


Hanahaki Disease

by chumpi



Series: Peter Parker's unfortunate oddities [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Find out in the next episode of-, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Peter Parker, Multi, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Dies, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter is an adult, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker, Unrequited Love, or does he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chumpi/pseuds/chumpi
Summary: "Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love."Peter doesn't believe in any such thing of growing flowers in your lungs, so why is he constantly throwing up petals?(Peter is an adult)





	Hanahaki Disease

The pain first bloomed on a Tuesday evening. All he was doing was passing the time by leaning over the side of a building, admiring the breath-taking sights the ever-busy New York achieved. His mind had subconsciously flickered over to Bucky, wondering what the man could possibly be doing. (Making a sandwich? Training in the gym? Sleeping away his many problems?)

When a dull ache had suddenly begun to stir in his lower abdomen, inducing a sharp pain in the said area in which made Peter take in a sharp intake of breath before the pain was making a rapid ascent, crawling upwards through his lithe body till he was left gasping for air.  
It was only a matter of seconds before he was ripping the skin-tight mask from his face, he felt like he was suffocating, that there was something clogging up his airways and squeezing and squeezing till there was no air left in his shriveled lungs – _he couldn’t breathe._

 

And then, so abruptly that he didn’t even have a chance to wrap his head around anything that was happening, _something_ was falling out from his mouth and into his palm. It took him a few minutes for his mind to fully register _what_ it was he was seeing in his hands.  
Petals. Blue hydrangea petals. In his palm. In. His. Palm.

 

**

 

To Peter’s dismay, Tony suggests for him to go and see Doctor Banner as soon as the man finds out what had happened that night, although what his mentor had said, wasn’t really a suggestion, more of an order. (Peter, however, could see the underlying hint of worry behind his mentor’s chocolate-brown orbs, he knew the man only meant well). 

 

In the end, he only goes to see Bruce to stop Tony from worrying about him any more than he already does. Because he knows he’s fine, (thinks he is anyway).

 

**

 

Doctor Banner is gentle with him, soothing, calm, _understanding._ His words are soft-spoken and he explains everything very clearly to him, tries to anyway, (Peter doesn’t really believe anything he’s saying, because surely people don’t just _grow flowers_ in their lungs, it’s absurd).

 

**

 

“It’s a very serious disease, Peter, caused by unrequited love.” Doctor Banner explains to him slowly, and Peter motions for him to continue, despite the urge to immediately deny the fact that he _isn’t_ in love with anybody, he’s happy how he is, single. 

(That’s a lie, he desperately wants Bucky Barnes).

 

**

 

“It’s a – not particularly rare – disease, but, _definitely_ , life-threatening if it manages to get to its final ends.”

Peters agrees with himself that that doesn’t sound very reassuring.

 

“There are three stages to it,” Doctor Banner begins once Peter is seated on a plush chair in front of him, his eyes hold a certain _pity_ to them, (Peter chooses to dismiss it though, not wanting any pity from the man). 

 

“The first, the ‘love’ stage. The victim in question begins to form a dull, almost painful ache in their chests, usually around the areas where their lungs are located. For the majority of people in the world - a good 85% percent of the earth’s population - this has happened to them before, but it eventually, after a short period of time it naturally goes away. For you? It’s developed into something more.” 

Peter has just a _slight_ suspicion that whatever Doctor Banner is going to tell him over the next few minutes won’t be pleasant for anyone. 

 

“The second stage, or the ‘petal stage’ as some like to call it. The leftover Bacteria from the first stage starts to cluster together inside of your lungs, bursting from the thin interior lining of your organs into stems.” A picture showing just that appears on a hologram next to Doctor Banner, (Peter is slightly horrified). 

“The stems form buds and then, eventually, the buds bloom into flowers, resulting in the petals inevitably falling off. They end up slowly overcrowding your lungs with, in your case blue hydrangea, petals.” Doctor Banner pauses, sighing and taking a sip from his water before continuing with his explanation. 

“While this is process is going on inside of you, you will be forced to cough them up constantly, in pain a lot of the time and breathing will be much harder, (with this happening there’s also chances of serious throat damage). Although,” Bruce adds on solemnly, “With each amount you manage to expel from your lungs, the more that grow in their place. It’s a never-ending process, really.” Doctor Banner explains quietly.

Peter’s hands have already begun shaking against his sides as he cautiously asks what the third and final stage is. 

 

“The final stage, or the ‘flower stage’. If the victim has even let it get this far, to this stage, death is inevitable.” Peter wants to laugh, pretend this is all a big prank Clint is playing on him, but the serious tone in Doctor Banner’s voice says otherwise. 

“You _will_ end up dying, Peter. The buds will grow into much larger flowers, not just small petals anymore. They’ll succeed in blocking your airways and you’ll, quite painfully, choke to death from lack of oxygen. Your lungs will fill up with them and you’ll be gone. Forever, Peter.” 

Peter doesn’t know if he should ask, too afraid of finding out the answer to his question, but he _really_ has to know. 

 

“Can-Can you cur-“ Peter begins.

But Doctor Banner interrupts him before he can even manage to get his question fully out as if he anticipated the question. “Yes. Just like the three stages, there are three cures. There’s ‘the happy ending’, the person you love comes to realize they love you back, returning your affections for them, thus making the love no longer unrequited, the flowers will shrivel up and die and the bacteria will become dormant once again, this probably being the nicest ending to the illness.”

Peter hopes for that one to come true (not that he even has this disease because he’s _definitely_ not in love with anyone).

 

“There’s the most common, agreeably saddest, option; the victim allows the bacteria to grow and grow, filling up their lungs and in turn cutting their air supply off, leading to their untimely death, although it’s sad, some find it better than having the third option performed.”  
Peter is curious now, curious about what ‘the third option’ maybe if it’s _supposedly_ worse than choking to death. 

 

“And then the last and final option, for some this is too much to partake in, but for others, it’s just right, just what they need.” Doctor Banner takes in a sharp breath, pushing up his glasses which have slid slightly down his nose before continuing, “The victim suffering from the Hanahaki Disease can undergo a rather,” Doctor Banner pauses again, as if maybe rethinking what he was about to say, _“Emotionally painful,_ operation, where the flowers have to be surgically removed..” He trails off, and Peter knows something is up. 

“What’s the twist then?” Peter remembers Doctor Banner saying some people don’t want to do this because of _something,_ so what was it? Surely having them surgically removed would be the best way?

 

Bruce sighs, long and hard, his voice holding a thousand emotions all at once. “Well you see, when the flowers are removed from your lungs, they take away with them any love and affection for the person who caused the illness in the first place. You wouldn’t ever be able to feel love for that specific person/s. It can also – only sometimes – erase the memories of the said person. Some people would rather die than lose their love for somebody.” Doctor Banner explains carefully, reaching out to gently pat Peter on the shoulder, but the boy simply flinches away, shaking his head in denial. 

 

**

 

“I’m not in love with him.” He chokes out, the underlying feeling of something in his throat edging him on from the back of his mind. This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this _can’t be real._ He repeats the mantra in his head over and over again as he coughs and coughs, because it _can’t_ be. It just can’t be. 

 

“This is all some silly joke,” He chokes out pitifully from around the growing amount of blue petals spilling from his mouth. 

 

**

 

But it’s not a silly joke, not now, he realizes. 

 

Peter had hoped it would be, when he was in the earlier stages of the disease because everything still seemed so _surreal_ to him, so _fake._ But as the pain worsened and the lump in the back of his throat grew, he knew it was too late for him. 

Obviously, the surgery was still a choice back then, but Peter doesn’t think he could ever bear the thought of not having any sort of love for the metal-armed soldier. It hurt too much to think about if he's perfectly honest.

 

So now Peter walks slowly down an aisle, there’s the Avengers and more of Bucky’s friends to his left, and a mass amount of people he didn’t know to his left (he sourly assumes they’re related in some way to Buckys spouse). 

 

**

 

Peter’s busy holding a small basket tightly in one hand, his other grabbing fistfuls of red petals and throwing them down onto the ground in front of him as they wait there patiently, narrowly missing being stepped on. 

Peter tries to be careful as he walks around, not wanting too much any of the beautiful flowers into the carpeted floor, it’d be a shame to waste such pretty things, he thinks to himself. 

 

**

 

He’s a good few feet away from Bucky when there’s a strange tightening in his chest, it’s like an invisible hand has wrapped around his lungs and throat, squeezing and then filling them to the brim with led. 

There’s a slight tickle at the back of his throat, he coughs once, and then again, and again once more.

 

The basket falls from his hands, hitting the floor with a loud ‘bang’ but he can’t bring himself to care, to immersed in the fact that he _can’t fucking breathe._

 

It’s all too much, all at once together and a big ball of hateful mush, and then there are blue petals falling to the ground in front of him and he collapses to the ground, his sharp knees digging into the soft material of the carpet. 

 

**

 

Peter continues to pathetically dry heave, blue petals spilling onto the floor underneath him and mixing in with the red roses.

 

**

 

It’s quite beautiful, Peter thinks to himself, the blue and red complement each other nicely, and it’s almost symbolic, he supposes. It reminds him of when he used to be Spider-Man, before the times where breathing was just _too_ hard for him to swing around New York into the early hours of the morning, saving people from muggers and helping old ladies carry their bags. 

 

He almost misses it, but it’s been sort of a relief, almost like a holiday. It’s been quite, nice, _simple._

And he thought everything would be okay, with less Spider-Manning it meant less time spent with the Avengers, which In turn meant less time spent around Bucky – saving him the pain of the Hanahaki Disease. (Peter still hasn’t learned why it’s even called that, doesn’t think he will now though, because, _oh god he can’t breathe_ ).

 

**

 

There’s lots of screaming and shouting but the thing he narrows in on is a soothing rubbing motion in between his shoulder blades and he assumes it’s Bucky because of the coldness seeping through his clothes from every touch, but he can’t bring himself to even care anymore, because he’s dying and he thinks he’s okay with that now.


End file.
